


Regressions

by not_whelmed_yet



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Babysitting, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Gen, POV JARVIS (Iron Man movies), Post-Season/Series 02, Reconciliation, emotional needs, kid Matt, which was a lot of fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 09:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_whelmed_yet/pseuds/not_whelmed_yet
Summary: It fell on JARVIS to find someone to look after the boy while the rest of the team was out trying to fix the problem. There was one obvious contact and the boy assured him that Franklin Nelson was his closest friend so he made the call.Post-season 2 Foggy is forced to babysit Kid!Matt and everyone has some feelings and also a bedtime snack.





	Regressions

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is another one I found lying around on my hard drive. Why not post 'em if there's a chance it could make someone happy? This one I'd done for a kinkmeme prompt and then someone commented that they thought Foggy came off as cruel in this and then I put it in a folder and didn't look at it for several months. So if your response after reading is that you think Foggy is cruel or selfish (rather than frustrated + having unmet emotional needs) pleeeeeease feel free to not comment and ruin my day.

It fell to JARVIS to make the phone call. Which was sensible - everyone was quite busy dealing with the source of the problem and clerical duties fell right in the middle of his bailiwick. In any case, it was quite simple. A few quick checks to determine the number, circle through service providers to find the phone's SIM. It took a few seconds to get a lock on the SIM and hijack the connected wifi router to plant the worm, mostly inevitable latency. Another few minutes for the program to install itself and finally Mr. Nelson was prepared to take encrypted calls through internet instead of relying upon the service provider's carrier signals, eminently traceable and available for government perusal. So dreadfully insecure, especially for a close confidant of someone with an actual secret identity.

Mr. Nelson seemed a bit out of sorts taking the call. It was close to three in the morning, for many humans that was a time where circadian rhythms were furthest tilted from wakefulness. But he did seem a bit confused.

"Why do you need me to come in? There are a lot of Avengers, you'd think they could handle one ten year old boy."

He wasn't wrong. There were a great many Avengers, nowadays. But most of them were not in the country and the rest of them were working on the problem and, in any case, "You're listed as his medical proxy. While he's a child he cannot consent to any procedure we might take to remedy that. We assumed that you were listed as his proxy become of some close friendship or other interpersonal bond, and that you would wish to be informed."

"I can be there," he said, with a sigh. Quieter, he said, "There should be less drama, if he's mentally ten, right?" Based upon the volume and relative acoustics, the comment appeared to not be directed at the phone. JARVIS ignored it and got Mr. Nelson on his way, ordering up an Uber to a few blocks away from the tower and dispatching a receptionist to walk him in from there, through the back entrance. One could never be too careful.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Nelson was exactly the sort of figure JARVIS imagined would be just right for comforting children. Was that wrong to say? He'd been trying to keep up to date on what was and was not offensive when referring to the relative stature, body-fat concentrations and other physical attributes of humans, but it was a whirlwind of information. Mostly he'd been keeping those thoughts to himself. But Mr. Nelson, who immediately insisted that his name be amended to "Foggy", looked very hug gable.

He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a college sweatshirt from Columbia, circa 2009. A bit tired, but not so much that he'd be a danger to himself or Matthew. Relative sleep deprivation analysis was one of his personal specialties.

"Lead the way," Foggy said, gesturing grandly as he stepped into the elevators.

"Matthew is in a guest bedroom on the 23rd floor," he explained. "I am currently monitoring the situation, but there is a physician on site as well. Her name is Dr. Kravita Rao. Her assessment is that Matthew is suffering from no immediate physical injuries or conditions that she can diagnose. He appears to be a mostly healthy eleven year old boy."

"Mostly?" Foggy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A bit of bruising from where he fell. A disproportionate amount of emotional distress that Dr. Rao refuses to diagnose as she is, and I do quote 'A general care practitioner, not a qualified child psychologist.' I would say his symptoms indicate some sort of sensory processing oversensitivity, so we've been treating as such. This floor, down the hallway, fourth door on your left."

Foggy startled a bit at the sudden shift in conversation as the the elevator doors were opened, but headed gamely down the hallway. Ahmed was watching the door, mainly to run errands if necessary, but he was a welcoming host and got Mr. Nels-Foggy, situated inside fairly quickly.

Dr. Rao came out to meet Foggy in the living room. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Nelson. It will be a little disorienting, I'm sure. He doesn't have a lot of memories past his apparent age, but there are a few bits and pieces. But overall, he's been a very good patient. Keep the noise down, don't touch him or startle at all. He was having trouble with air vibrations, so we've made up a saltwater bath. I'm here if you need me, but otherwise there are other patients who need my attention."

Foggy smiled and held up a finger for her to wait. "Just running through my babysitting protocols," he said. "Is there food if he's hungry? Is there a bedroom appropriate for him to sleep in or a change of clothes for sleeping?"

"If I may?" JARVIS interrupted. "I can answer all of those questions and Dr. Rao can return to her work. There is a small stock of food in the attached kitchenette, but if something specific is required it can be sent up. There is a bedroom and some appropriately sized pajamas have already been located."

Once Dr. Rao had seen herself out, Foggy walked slowly to the doorway that lead to the bathroom. He stood there for three minutes, muttering something under his breath that was presumably meant to be private. Eventually, he straightened up and shook his head. "Less than twelve hours. You can do this. Twelve hours and he's out of your life again."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was a small bathroom. The walls were pale blue and crisp. It was uniform and undecorated, but tasteful. Matthew was in the bath, still wearing a pair of swim shorts because he'd vetoed the idea of going without in the presence of Dr. Rao. He lay nearly entirely submersed, head poking out and resting his chin on the wall of the tub. The pair of noise canceling earmuffs were a bit wet from a couple of dunkings, but apparently still working. He wasn't thrashing anymore, which was good. It had looked a trifle disturbing and they wouldn't want to cause Foggy any (additional) distress.

As Foggy stepped inside the room, Matthew's face lit up. He jerked up into a sitting position, tilted his head a bit and gave several audible sniffs as he scented the room. "Foggy!" he said, splashing a bit as his hands flapped out of the water.

"Hey Matty," Foggy said, a bit stiff. "They weren't sure if you'd remember me." He walked over and grabbed the folding chair Rao had been sitting in.

"Mmm," Matthew said. He nodded. "I don't remember lots of things. But I remember you. You're my best friend. And my first friend. And you smell like gross coffee and strawberries and cream. And you like Pirates of Penzance. I'm not really sure what that is, but it involves singing badly? It might be a game."

"Gee, that's a lot of things to remember when you don't remember a lot," Foggy said as he sat down. "So we're best friends forever, is that it?" Foggy sounded playful, but his forehead was creased and his mouth had a definite downturn.

Matthew bit his lip and shook his head. "Nothing's forever. We're friends till you leave."

"I leave? What if you leave?"

Matthew shook his head again. "No. I'm not good and I'm not right and eventually I'll make you leave." He rapped one fist on the pair of headphones he was wearing, then let his hand shake visibly for a few moments before dropping it back under the water.

"And who told you that?" Foggy asked, looking around the room.

"Ehm," Matthew shrugged. "Some things you don't have to be told. The world tells you in little drips here and there. Thanks for staying my friend as long as you have, you're super old so that's got to be a long time."

Foggy shook his head. "I'm not that old. Are you ever going to get out of the bath and go to sleep? It's nearly four already."

"No," Matthew said. "They said I'd be an adult again soon. He can get out of the bath."

"Aren't you tired?"

Matthew turned to face him, missing the mark by a few degrees. He rolled his eyes. "Obviously. But you can't sleep in the bath. You'd drown."

"You're a bit of a smart ass, you know that?"

Matthew smiled, all toothy. Children were such awkward creatures. "My dad used to say that."

Foggy put his hands up and stood up from his chair. "Okay. Okay, I'm not feeling this conversation. Mr. Jarvis, could I talk with you outside?"

He walked outside to the next room and looked up, as if the cameras were all placed along the crown molding. Which would be a very inconvenient set of camera angles to work from exclusively. "He can still hear us, I presume," Foggy said.

JARVIS checked with Matthew and, yes, of course he could still hear them. _Normal_ people can hear people in the next room.

"Well, can you pipe in some obfuscating sound, because I really don't feel like walking to the other side of this building and or this city in order to have a private conversation. It is three in the morning and I've already hiked halfway across Manhattan and I have court tomorrow morning. I'm really not feeling it."

JARVIS consulted briefly with Matthew and then found a nice book to put on, a complete collection of dissenting opinions by Thurgood Marshall. With just a little bit of finagling he could rig up a digital reader based on the vocal samples he'd gotten from Mr. Nelson throughout the morning. The book, then a nice white noise filter as the bottom layer and a mid-beat of quiet piano jazz. Soothing, distracting and certainly seemed to have the child entranced. Good enough.

"Done," he said. "I'll keep monitoring Matthew to make sure he's doing alright while we talk. Do yo require assistance? I thought the conversation was going very well. Matthew hasn't been responding to anyone but me all evening."

"It's not Kid-Matt that I"m having problems with," Foggy said. "It's the adult him. We're not friends anymore. He's kind of an asshole, honestly. And he's self-destructive and we both decided it was for the best if we split up. African violets of a friendship that wasn't meant to be and all that. I haven't talked to him in months."

"Ah, I can see how that could be awkward," JARVIS said, humming gently. The flower reference, upon a quick internet search, turned out to be a reference to an advice column that looked most interesting. He spun off a thread to read through the archives.

"Like, Matt deserves friends. And he deserves to be happy. But I'm not his therapist and I just couldn't keep up being the person holding both of us up all the time. And I was settled in that decision. But now he's small and vulnerable and this him is innocent of the things I'm mad at adult Matt for doing..."

"-but he's making you feel manipulated by virtue of those very facts. Because you feel forced to forgive him of things you wouldn't outside of these unusual exigent circumstances. And then you feel guilty, because it isn't the child's fault that we assumed you two were close and that you would be a great help." Was there some way he could trick Sir into reading an advice column that appeared to be aimed mainly at women? This was _enlightening_.

"That's part of it. The other part is, the things he remembers, the things he says? Those aren't things he'd tell me as a grown up. This is Matt with no filter. And that feels unethical, prompting him to tell me things he never said for years of normal adult friendship. It's like if you drugged him with some kind of truth serum-"

"-Which do not exist-"

"-I know, I'm trying to make a point. If he remembers telling me any of this shit when he's back to normal, he's going to feel mortified. I don't think me being there and encouraging him is a good idea. It's the whole consent issue you raised when you were getting me to come down here in the first place."

He wasn't wrong. JARVIS took a few cycles to spin over the input, relative to his instructions and their relative priorities. "I will understand if you wish to leave and will convey your regrets to the Avengers. However, there is a theory that we did not disclose to you right away in hopes of...I believe it was in hopes of lessening the emotional pressure on you."

"Oh, so everyone's lying to me. Even the extremely polite ceiling robot is lying to me now. That's just great." Foggy threw his hands in the air. "And I went to Avengers tower and didn't get to meet Captain America. Today sucks."

It wasn't a lie. There were specific protocols for lying and they were not being used in the interaction with Mr. Nelson at the moment. They were being used at the lobby, in the reception area and via three digitized phone calls at that moment, but they were not being used with Mr. Nelson. Lying required specific permissions based on advanced directives from Sir personally, otherwise obfuscation was the only acceptable response besides outright truth. However, he did not judge that Mr. Nelso-Foggy would respond well to that correction, so he stayed silent and allowed him to carry on until he was finished.

"Okay, then, Jarvis. What is this theory?"

"We are, of course, pursuing every possible remedy to the spell. But Strange had posited that maybe it would reverse itself based upon Matthew's memories of his older self. That once he remembered more of being an adult than a child he would become as such."

"So, you can just tell him about older Matt. Easy peasy."

"Mr. Murdock was not very forthcoming about his personal life. We traced his identity after the spell using facial recognition. He has a minimal online presence and is not involved in any social networks that could provide useful information. He nearly no contacts in his phone, no significant recent call history, no living family members and no current coworkers. We are, one might say, at a bit of a loss."

"There's Karen, but I don't think she knows much either. Matt really clammed up after we graduated. What about Elektra-"

"Natchios? She bequeathed a sizable sum to Matthew after her death, but we didn't find any other information about their relationships. From the gift we assume they were close, but he did not appear in any of her online profiles or other digital traces."

Foggy froze, then glanced behind him at the bathroom door. "Elektra died?" he asked in a hush. "How?"

"The official word is that she was stabbed in a mugging gone wrong, but there were no witnesses. She did not have a public funeral, but was buried within the city against the wishes of her parents, who'd wanted her to be buried in the family plot. They had been estranged for several years, it appears."

"Shit. And she left her money to Matt? What's he been doing with it?"

"Based upon his credit card history and grocery delivery account, very little. His spending patterns did not change at all upon receiving the gifts except that he no longer purchases a cup of coffee each morning, presumably because he no longer walks to work."

"Is he working at all?"

JARVIS considered the evidence. "I do not think so. Based upon the number and frequency of Daredevil sightings, I think he's been working through the night most days, starting around seven in the evening. It's hard to imagine doing so while also working in the daytime."

"Okay. So Matt's depressed, he's not working, he's fighting crime in all of his waking hours and Elektra died. I can see that. At least he's not starving in the streets. Okay, I'm convinced. I'll go back in there and talk to a little kid until he magically turns back into an adult so that I can walk out of here guilt free. You'll tell me if Captain America shows up in the building?"

"I will be certain to do so."

Foggy went back into the room, fixing a small and awkward smile on his face. "Hey kiddo," he said cheerily, "finished my talk with our disembodied friend. How're you doing?"

JARVIS paused the audiobook and Matthew shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay, that's good. So, I've decided I'm uncomfortable with you telling me things that you wouldn't as a grownup. It feels like I'm violating adult-you's trust. Do you get that?"

"Okay."

"What am I talking about, of course you get it. You're a little nerd, I'm sure you'd thought a lot about complex moral dilemma's at age ten. So, what I'm thinking is, instead I'm going to tell you stories. Stories about two really great friends. Us. While we're at it, we can see what you remember. Sound good?"

"Sure." Matthew nodded. "How did we meet? Did we meet in high school?"

"Naw, we were roommates in college. And law school, but that comes later. I don't know much about you in high school, though you were apparently valedictorian. No, I'm getting side tracked. Let's start with the first day of college, this one's a good story."

Foggy was a good storyteller. He'd probably been a babysitter when he was younger, or maybe he had a lot of relatives. It would be intrusive to check without a good reason. But he was a good storyteller. By the story of the time the power went out for twelve hours and they'd ordered pizza at midnight and had to walk through freezing rain to fetch it, Matthew had crawled back out of his shell.

"What kind of pizza do you like?" Matthew asked.

"I like all sorts of pizzas. Veggies. Sausage. Hawaiian. Pretty much, besides anchovies, if you put it on pizza, I like it. But that doesn't really matter, because we got cheese pizza, light on the sauce. Somehow you always ended up with pizza veto powers."

"I don't like pizza toppings?" Matthew asked. He frowned. "I don't think I remember having pizza since," he pointed at his left eye in explanation. "I used to like pepperoni a lot. But a lot of things don't taste as good now."

"I can confirm that you never ordered pizza with any toppings to my recollection. But maybe you just didn't want to look all hedonistic in front of me, ordering all the toppings. It'd go with your cheapskate aesthetic."

Matthew's stomach made a loud rumbling sound. His hands pressed to his abdomen, hunching a bit around his guilty midsection. "I'm not hungry," he said, heading Foggy off at the pass.

"Sure you aren't." Foggy leaned over and poked his hand into the water. "Damn, that's cold. Jarvis, how long has it been since Matty here had something to eat?"

Seven hours since the transformation. But it was impossible to confirm that he'd eaten before heading out for the night and getting caught up with the Avengers. Foggy frowned to hear that.

"Okay, kiddo. I understand that getting out of the water sounds really unpleasant. But I can confirm that older you? He wanders around in the air just like plain folks. And I'm not going to sit here and let you freeze or starve. Not under my watch."

"I'm not that hungry," Matthew said. "With Stick, I..." he trailed off. "That's probably something I wouldn't tell you. Never mind."

"Yep, I can confirm you've never told me anything about Stick."

"You never met him?" Matthew asked.

"Nope."

"He didn't come to my graduation?"

Foggy frowned. "I don't think you guys had that kind of relationship. I think he was pretty exclusively interested in the ninja parts of your life."

"Oh." Matthew said. "I don't remember-remember him yet. Just bits and pieces, so he must be when I'm older. But I have a lot of, of..." he trailed off, clearly grasping for a word. He grabbed at his chest, just where his heart was. "Feelings? How can I care so much if he wasn't even around long enough to see me graduate?"

"Sometimes people aren't in our lives a very long time but they still mean a lot to us. I don't think time is the main factor."

"I thought for sure he was around," Matthew said. "I remember being old and him breaking my coffee table."

"Really? I was wondering what happened to that poor thing. I spend all Saturday with you, picking out rubbish second-hand furniture and you manage to break the one piece I'd liked enough to want in my own apartment."

"Umm," Matthew closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, a picture of concentration. A lot of his expressions were very exaggerated, like he wasn't sure if his message was getting across so he played every detail up. "I think he threw me into the table and the legs collapsed. We were fighting about something."

"Sparring?" Foggy suggested.

"No. I was angry and...feelings? Disappointed, maybe? I don't remember what he did, but I know I started the fight."

"Did you win?"

"I think so. He left, anyway. I don't know if that was winning."

"Well this has been enlightening, but I would like to point out that you are still in a bathtub and we're no closer to eating food. Jarvis, could you check the kitchenette for butter, cinnamon, sugar and white bread? I have something particular in mind." He opened the little cabinet under the sink and pulled out an enormous white towel. He rubbed it on his his cheek with a expression of intense concentration, then nodded. "This towel should be soft enough to do. I'm going to the bedroom to find you some pajamas, I expect you to be out of the tub when I get back."

"Foggy," Matthew whined.

"We can make up a new tub when you're done eating if we must. But I draw the line at eating in the bathtub. I'll be right there, you're going to be fine."

"The air is loud," Matthew said, curling up in the tub.

"That doesn't make any sense. What are you actually feeling? Pressure changes? Temperature changes? Air currents?"

"I don't know. It's not labeled! It just hurts."

"Okay, calm down." Foggy slipped out of the chair to kneel by the tub. "Jarvis, can you temporarily shut down any heat or air circulation in this apartment? That's probably most of what he's feeling."

That was easily done. A quick check on infrared showed that there were patches of hot and cold throughout the apartment, but they were fairly consistent in the kitchenette and away from the windows.

Slowly and grudgingly, Matthew climbed out of the tub and wrapped himself in the towel, swim shorts dripping onto the bath mat. Foggy came back with a set of microfiber pajamas, then retreated out of the room to let Matthew dress in privacy. JARVIS switched off the visual sensors, leaving audio on in case Matthew required assistance.

It took nearly ten minutes, but Matthew eventually called for Foggy to come back, having successfully changed into the pajamas. Foggy came with a blue and incredibly plush blanket draped over his shoulder. He took one look at Matthew shivering on the soaking bathmat and swept the blanked over his shoulder's like a cape. "I'm going to pick you up now," he said, and then lifted the boy and the blanket in one movement, shifting a bit awkwardly to carry him bridal style.

"Foggy, I'm ten, not three," Matthew grumbled.

"You don't think I carry my ten year old cousins? I don't, actually, but only because they're made out of lead. You, however, are made of bird bones and spiderwebs. I could carry you all day. Headphones comfortable? They're not going to fall off like this, right?"

"They're okay," Matthew said.

"Good. Then we're going on an adventure. To the kitchen!"

They made a swift journey to the kitchen, Foggy filling the still air with a steady stream of chatter on those cousins Matthew had at one point known. Aiden was a real monster, it sounded like. Dropping a perfectly functioning cell phone into a fish tank so that 'the fish could talk back', the horror. All the while, Matthew gathered up more and more of the fabric in his hands, kneading at the soft fleece. By the time Foggy lowered him back onto his feet in the kitchen he had it grappled into a death grip that pulled it tight across his shoulders. Foggy ignored that, rapping his knuckles on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "If you want to sit. Now, do you have anything you want to eat?"

Matthew shook his head.

"That's okay, because I already know you. Isn't that convenient? So we're making your favorite late-night drunken snack. Volcanoes."

Matthew sat down and transferred his hold on the fabric in his left hand into his right, freeing up one hand to spider-crawl over the blanket draped over his leg and pluck at the burs and inconsistencies in the knit. "Are we alcoholics as grown ups?"

"That's your question? Not the wonder of volcanoes?"

"Almost all of your stories are about drinking. And being drunk."

"You were a drinker before you met me, that's what you always said. First drink at nine, right?"

"It wasn't like, I wasn't, I don't want...I don't want you to think Dad was a drunk okay? It was a sip. It was a, a," he seemed to get caught on the word and worked his jaw for a moment before continuing, "he wanted me to know he trusted him and that we were on the same team."

Foggy smiled. "Hey, I never said your dad was a bad influence. I strongly approved of your dad's style."

"He wasn't doing it for style," Matthew said.

"I know, Matty." Foggy sat down in the other chair. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I thought bad things about your dad. I know his memory is incredibly important to you. And everything you've ever said lets me know that he did his absolute best by you, the best he knew how. I know that, okay?"

"Okay." Matthew waited a beat and then continued. "So we're not alcoholics?"

"Umm, well no promises about Karen. She's another friend from when you're older. And I've dabbled. Maybe indulged a bit too much in college. But you're definitely the best of us as far as inebriants of the boozy sort. I don't think you like feeling really drunk. You said it makes you sick," Foggy said.

"Okay."

"Okay then. Volcanoes," Foggy stood up with a flourish. "Are you even going to ask me what volcanoes are, or am I going to have to direct this monologue all by myself like the finest Shakespearean castmember?"

"I can hear you know. I can't see-"

"-for shit, but your hearing is spectacular. Good point. So we know volcanoes are white bread, butter, sugar and cinnamon. But what happens next?" Foggy opened the fridge and got out the butter, then opened each cabinet in turn in search of something. On the last drawer he found a knife, which appeared to be the object of his search.

"We get out a knife?" Matthew guessed. "I dunno, this isn't my snack."

"Sure it is. You invented it. Or maybe you found a recipe on the internet. I never bothered to ask. Anyway, you taught me the fine art of volcanoes in junior year of undergrad, when there was a toaster oven in our dorms communal kitchen. Okay, Jarvis, are there any bowls or measuring cups or anything safe to go in the microwave?" He asked.

"Upper cabinet, all of the glass bowls are microwave safe."

"Thanks, Jarvis. Okay, so this is actually really easy. First we melt some butter. How much butter? I quote the great guru Matthew Michael Murdock, circa that one night when we were not drunk but quite a bit tipsy - 'I dunno, Foggy, not a whole stick or anything'. I have taken this to mean a great deal. Like maybe half a stick."

He cut the butter as such and put it into the microwave, tapping in a time to melt it, then pausing. "Will the microwave bother you?"

Matthew shrugged. "Everything bothers me."

"Okay, well it's only set to twenty seconds. If it really bothers you, stop me and we'll warm this up on the stove top somehow."

The low hum of the microwave seemed fairly innocuous, but Matthew set his jaw and didn't move for the whole of it. Foggy floundered a bit, finger hovering by the stop button but waiting on his word to stop. He popped the door open at one second, averting the standard microwave alert that JARVIS had been fighting for the previous nineteen seconds. Who programmed the alarm sounds into the base code of the microwave such that the volume was immutable?

"Okay, now we add some sugar and cinnamon. I'm going to need your super tasting here, actually. You do this part to taste, usually with a frankly excessive number of taste-tests. The flavor we're looking for is 'intensely cinnamon, but not painful'. I'll do the sugar and you can add the cinnamon."

Foggy added enough sugar to the liquid butter that the mixture became a thick paste, then got out the cinnamon and a separate spoon for scooping.

Matthew considered the setup dubiously. "I haven't cooked since the accident," he said.

"I have great faith," Foggy said. "And you absolutely have. Just in a weird timey-wimey kind of way that you can't remember because of magic."

"The future is really complicated," Matthew said, scooping the barest sprinkling of cinnamon into the bowl and stirring it in. He sniffed and added a bit more.

"You're telling me, buddy. And I haven't even told you about the aliens yet."

"Aliens?" Matthew froze with his pinkie finger halfway to his mouth. "There are aliens?"

"Aw yes, there are aliens. And Captain America is found, alive in the Arctic. You were really excited about that one."

"I had his comics," Matthew said, adding a bit more cinnamon. "Is he one of the people who own this fancy future building?"

"Something like that. It's probably all a bit complicated to explain to you now, especially since you're going to go back to being adult you soon and then I'd be explaining it to somebody who already knows all this stuff."

Matthew pushed the bowl of cinnamon sugar back. "I think that's good."

"Then it's time to get out the bread. This is boring white bread. That is because, as my cooking guru once explained, it's only purpose is to be a boring background palate on which to paint cinnamon. And we were broke and there was white bread in the communal kitchen. So we get out two slices of bread and divide this sugar up evenly between two friends. Since I am larger and also an adult, I get two thirds and you get one third and that is even," Foggy said as he divided the mixture up meticulously evenly, then spread it in a thick layer of sugar. "Then in an ideal world, we'd have a toaster oven, but we do not. Instead we're going to use this tiny stove's broiler."

He bustled about for a bit, setting that to preheat ("always forget to preheat the oven, that is an essential step"), finding a tray and getting the slices of sugary toast under the broiler. Then he sat down back in the other chair.

"And now we wait. Luckily there's a glass window so I can watch till they're ready. You can smell toast burning, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good, that saves us setting a timer. Feeling tired yet, Matty? You've been up all night at this point. That've slowed me down when I was your age. I didn't stay up till midnight on New Years till I was eleven, I think. I kept meaning to, but then we'd fall asleep and my traitorous parents wouldn't wake us back up."

"Maybe a little," Matthew allowed. "But I don't need to go to bed."

"No?"

"No," Matthew said.

They sat in silence for a minute, or proximal silence. There was the bubbling of the sugar as it caramelized and formed large magma-like bubbles, the near silence hiss of steam as the water vapor left the slices of bread, the quiet tick of a clock out in the living room. It was likely silence to Foggy. He looked of a mind to interrupt with a new line of conversation, but just as he opened his mouth, Matthew shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I overheard something and that's bad too, but I want to apologize for hurting you as an adult. I'm sorry I was a bad friend."

"Matty, you can't apologize for that. You don't even remember what you did."

"I got scared you were going to leave me so I made you leave me by being awful," Matthew said, voice clipped. "It's a trend, my trauma recovery therapist said so. If I got drunk and hit someone, could I apologize, even if I didn't remember? It's the same thing. I don't remember, but I did it. I'm sorry I made you sad and guilty and lonely."

"Hey, Matty, I-"

"You don't have to do anything about it. I know you want to talk to the real Matt, not me. I just want you to know. Also, the toast is going to burn if you don't take it out."

Foggy bolted up and in a flurry located the one dish towel that could be used as a potholder, since there were no actual potholders to be found anywhere in the kitchen. He located plates for both of them and distributed the slices of toast, the bubbles now freezing into semi-solid sugar as they cooled.

"If I go to bed will you still be here?" Matthew asked. "When I wake up? I know you have important places to be."

"If you need me here, I'll be here," Foggy said. "What do you think?"

Matthew tried a tiny nibble. "Hot. Sweet. Tastes like cinnamon."

"You, my boy, could replace the entire food review section of the newspaper. Cold. Wet. Might be seafood."

"No, I like it," Matthew insisted. "I don't want to throw up or anything. It's sharp, but good." He tried another bit. "Maybe needed more cinnamon."

 

* * *

 

 

It took most of an hour to get Matthew settled in bed, but after that he dropped off quickly. Foggy stayed for awhile, sitting on the floor next to the bed, scrolling through his phone sending off messages. Then, at half past six, Captain Rogers and the rest of the stateside team returned. JARVIS sent Foggy a quiet notification on his phone alerting him to that fact and they negotiated a meeting three floors up in the communal break room.

The break room was empty of Avengers when Foggy first arrived. He looked around a little and found himself the coffee machine, started making himself up a pot. Captain Rogers arrived a few minutes later, showered and changed into slacks and a t-shirt. He came in at a jog and Nelson nearly dropped the coffee pot in surprise.

"Sorry about that," Rogers said, slowing to a walk as he hit the kitchen, "didn't mean to surprise you. You go by Foggy, right?"

"Yeah." Foggy stood, staring, for a minute.

"You can call me Captain if you must, but I really prefer Steve. Jarvis is always going all formal on me, but you don't have to. Mind if I have some of that coffee? It was a long night for everybody," Steve said, grabbing two coffee mugs from the top shelf.

"That would be great, Ca-Steve. Sorry. It's been a long night and I really never expected this."

"That's fair," Steve said. Foggy poured the coffee and they drifted over to the kitchen island. "The bad news is we didn't make any headway on solving Matthew's problem. Strange is convinced that he will revert back on his own 'when the time is right.' I don't really know what that means. All of this magic business is over my head."

"So what happens to him in the meantime?" Foggy asked. "If he's stuck like this for a long time? Could he stay here?"

Steve shrugged. "We certainly have the space, he wouldn't be a burden. But I don't think Matthew would be very happy staying here without you. Jarvis was telling me he calmed down quite a bit after you got here. Before that he was a bit...disconsolate. I mean, obviously, we can't force him on you."

"No, you can't," Foggy said grimly.

"Well he's not a real child, so we're not going to ship him off into the foster system, even if by some horrible chance this turns out to be permanent. If you couldn't take him, we'd keep him here. Hopefully that won't be an issue, though, and this will all fix itself in the next few days."

Foggy nodded. "Hopefully." He took a sip of his coffee. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Within reason"

"How did you forgive everyone? I mean, Barnes, Stark, that must have been a massive hurdle coming back together. How did you go back to being friends after being betrayed?"

Steve put down his coffee and looked at Foggy, catching his eye and holding it. "I didn't have to forgive them nearly as much as they needed to forgive me. And, at the end of the day, everything we'd done to hurt one another seemed real small compared to the amount of hurt that would have been stopping everything and never seeing each other again. So we made it work. I don't know how much of that applies for your situation," he said, "but even if you can't forgive him, let Matthew get a chance to apologize. That would have mattered a lot to me."

"Mr. Nelson," JARVIS interrupted, "Matthew has just woken up."

"Aw, shoot. I promised I'd be there," Foggy said. He drank the rest of the coffee in one gulp, gave a quick salute to Captain Rogers and then walked out the wrong door, realized his mistake and took off at a jog towards the correct door. The hallway on this floor was mostly empty, since it was a private floor, which made for a quick jog to the elevators. "Is he okay?" he asked, once he was safely within the elevator.

"Matthew is physically fine," JARVIS replied.

"Well, shit," Foggy said. He walked briskly from the elevator to the apartment door, waved through by Ahmed. Who was looking a bit peaky, really, time to send in a staff rotation. Foggy sped up after passing the threshold, jogging again to the bedroom where he came to an abrupt halt.

"Hey, Foggy," Matthew said, curling under the blanket that had recently dwarfed him. "You came back."

"Jarvis, you cryptic bastard, you could have mentioned he switched back to being an adult," Foggy said over his shoulder. Turning back to Matthew, he said flatly, "Hello, Matt. You look well. And adult. I think I'm going to-"

"-wait. Please wait," Matthew said, sitting up. He'd lost his shirt in the shift between sizes and kept one hand holding the blanket safely around his waist. He reached out a hand to where Foggy was standing. "I know I don't, I just want a couple more minutes."

"You know where I live," Foggy said, shifting backwards, hands in his pockets.

"You blocked my phone number. I know you hate it when I push on your boundaries, I didn't want to force myself on you uninvited. Please, just one minute. I've already wasted the rest of your morning."

"Well that's certainly true. Though I did get to meet Captain America, so it wasn't a total loss," Foggy said.

Matt stood up, still holding the blanket around him as a skirt, and drifted over to Foggy. "I need to apologize for hurting you. I let my fears define what we could be. I didn't trust you, I pushed you away and I let you down time after time after time. I built myself in the shadows of people I'd lost and I never managed to grow into something better, even when you gave me so many chances. So, just, I'm always waiting, okay? You can leave, you can come back. If you ever want to start again, no matter the terms, I'll be waiting. And if you ever need me, for anything, I'll hear you. Okay? Just call if you need me."

"Matt." Foggy said. "You know we can't just fix this on good intentions."

Matt smiled, bright and bitter. "I know. I'm not going to push. Do whatever you need to keep yourself happy."

He walked past, then out into the hallway before Foggy unfroze himself enough to turn around. He fished his phone out of his pocket and opened it to the address book, then scrolled down to 'm'. He looked at the screen for a minute, then turned it off and put it away, smiling a little.

"He just walked out of here without any pants on, didn't he, Jarvis?" He asked.

"Most indubitably."

"What a dork. Which way did he go?"

"Towards the roof. Would you like me to stop the elevator?"

"Nah," Foggy said. "I'll catch up with him soon."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over on tumblr at [ notwhelmedyet](http://notwhelmedyet.tumblr.com/), but I'm mostly busy having feelings about gay space robots at the moment. Maybe my daredevil inspiration will return someday? I adore comments in all shapes and sizes.


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